


Hidden in Plain Sight

by Selah



Series: Gensou [37]
Category: Jrock, Kagrra
Genre: Gen, Historical, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 00:36:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8822710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selah/pseuds/Selah
Summary: The idea of a simple life was largely illusion, but Isshi couldn't deny the fantasy's appeal.





	

**Author's Note:**

> time stamp: early Meiji era  
> Isshi uses "Edo" for Japanese of the shogunate, who are quite distinct from the Ainu of his home.

People liked to fantasize that there could be such a thing as a simple life. Over the many long centuries of his life, Isshi had yet to see proof of such things. A cave, a shrine, a college, wandering the whole of the country as a merchant and storyteller, nothing had ever been easy. The arrival of the modern era certainly hadn't helped. He changed his public name, dyed his hair, found ways of subtly fitting himself into a local narrative for perhaps as long as a couple decades, then moved on before his secret could be uncovered. And took comfort in the companion of other refugees when he could. The descendants of the Edo might have, in their so-called enlightenment and science, largely relegated the youkai clans to the realm of fantasy, but their kind had not disappeared so completely as that.

“A folklorist, huh? Don't run into too many of those around anymore.”

“Mm, some would say it's a dying art,” he agreed with a polite smile. Just two travelers waiting for the next train to Nagano, the other man had been the one to strike up the conversation. A young journalist going home for a few days to deal with some family business. 

“So what do you do then?”

“I write for a Tokyo newspaper, published a couple books. Travel to hear stories from the elders before they can disappear, that sort of thing,” he said, sipping his tea. After five thousand years of walking the islands of what was now the nation-state of Japan, Isshi already knew most of the stories he was sent to record. But there was something about listening to old grandmothers and elderly fishermen sharing the stories of their childhoods that made the trips more than worthwhile. The way a man would light up with the telling of his favorite fanciful story. The appreciation his “sources” would show for having someone seemingly so young willing to listen to their tales of disappeared creatures and times long gone. Of courtesans and kitsune, samurai and tengu, monks and yurei. It warmed his heart, made the journeys less burdensome. It wasn't perfect, but for now, it was a life he could happily lead.


End file.
